Remembrance
by ComradeLeon
Summary: When I dream, I dream of a better life. Yet when I open my eyes I can't seem to picture it with you. The past has a way of catching up to you, no matter how far you run. Has there ever been a time when Harry could rest easy? [Harry Potter X Daphne Greengrass]


It was sunny outside, something rare in the cold Scottish winter in Hogwarts. Yet he was stuck for two more hours listening to Slughorn drone on about the difference between High Troll fat and Mountain Troll fat. And while it was jaw dropping for Hermione, it seemed pretty boring considering the only real difference is their smell. But Slughorn was intent on making them stay inside just to outline the different ways to distinguish them.

He just wanted to soak up the sun, at least for a couple of minutes before it was dreary and frighteningly cold again. He played with the flaps of his textbook, flipping through them over and over again. For the next hour Professor Slughorn explained how to brew a potion for water-breathing, and the next hour was spent making the actual potion. Though in all honesty, it only takes twenty minutes to brew the foul smelling liquid. And this earned Harry an outstanding for the day and an early pass to leave the class after he finished cleaning his equipment. Hermione had a determined look on her face, not wanting to ask Harry for help, but he patted her shoulder and encouraged her to do her best and then left the classroom quickly to face the almighty sun before it hides away.

When he got outside he could feel the warm light touching his face. He took a large amount of air in, loving the smell of melting snow. It was so calm, and some lights bounced off the snow which made the clearing almost like a surreal painting that would have been posted in Dumbledore's office.

"It was rude of you to leave me there." Daphne stood beside him, her shoulder's almost touching his. She did not look at him, but straight forward where the image of glossy wet grass was being revealed by the treacherous sun.

"I knew you'd finish it without any problem. You always do." He could see the foggy breath coming from Daphne's mouth as he looked at her, shinning beneath a golden ray.

"Is there something on my face?" She asked, yet her voice remained even, without the hint of emotion. As much as one would expect of her, the Queen of Slytherin had no emotions. But Harry got used to it already.

"Just beautiful eyes that I wouldn't mind getting lost into." He said. Harry witnessed a small twitch that was only visible for a second.

"Oh?" She responded, with as much curiosity as a child would inspecting a flower. "Anything else?" While Daphne disregarded many-a advances from boys, Harry was different. He had slithered his way around her mask for a few years now, not that she would outright say it to him.

And Harry could never get over the small butterflies fluttering in his belly whenever he has these moments with Daphne. Sure they were dating, but it made him even happier just to see her smile, if only for a second.

Harry reached for her hand, and it was cold. Daphne clasped it tighter, liking the warmth of Harry. "I'd say delicious lips that I can't get enough of." Harry's ears became red when he said this, and Daphne slapped his hand away and nudged him gently. But he saw her smile, if only a little bit. And that was enough for now.

"You know princess, the sun envies how golden your hair shines." Harry said confidently, smiling in her direction which only gained him a nod and once again a crack of a smile. "You may think of me as some sappy romantic," He turned to look at her, clasping one hand and spinning her around, earning him a scowl, or was it laughter?

"And you'd be right to assume I am just some common bloke professing his love." Pulling her in close, Daphne landed in his arms, her back pressed firmly on his chest and she could feel his warm breath behind her ear.

"But every time I see you, I can't shake off this feeling that we were made for each other." His body swayed gently side-to-side as if he was dancing to some echoing music, and Daphne had to thank the stars that the hallway was empty or people would see her openly smiling with a small blush to match Weasley red.

He began humming as their feet soon found rhythm together. She was careful not to step on his feet and he was careful not to drag her too harshly. Leaning her head against him, she closed her eyes and enjoyed this moment, loving the sensation of Harry's comforting presence that could very well spell forever. Harry ran his hands on the length of her arms, his calloused fingers giving her goosebumps that even the cold couldn't muster. And as Harry continued up her shoulders and down to her waist, they stood facing the garden now bereft of snow. The grass shimmered as the final snowy patch melted, ever so slowly, to the sun.

They admired the dewy garden, the droplets like crystals shimmering with life. Harry pressed a kiss down behind her ear, his hold on her slightly tightening as if he was scared she was going to melt. But she placed one of her hands on his, and she intertwined their fingers. She brushed her thumb over his hand, bringing it up to her mouth and kissing it. Her heart flutters, beating hard as if she ran twelve laps around the quidditch field, yet she loved the surge of romanticism that accompanied this rapid heart rate.

And as for Harry, these are the only times he _ever_ felt alive.

Precious minutes passed, and they were comfortable just staying there watching the garden yet the bell rang which signaled the end of class. They untangled, Harry groaning at the lost of contact. But was soon silenced by a kiss on his cheek.

She started walking to the direction of the library, only stopping when she did not notice him following. Daphne looked over her shoulder, her vibrant blue eyes landed on deep emeralds. She raised one eyebrow, and Harry didn't need to be asked twice before following her.

They went to the back of the library, as it was the only place where someone like Harry and Daphne could be together in peace. And as they finished putting up the usual wards, it wasn't long before the Queen of Slytherin was no more and it was just Daphne Greengrass. She wasted no time closing the distance between them that Harry almost dropped his wand. He threw the holly on a spare table before resting his hands on the small of her back. The kiss was feverish, almost intense. Daphne would bite at his lower lip and Harry would accept the pain that came with her kiss. Harry returned it with ease, her mouth granting him entrance and their tongues danced together in heated, passionate, almost sloppy kissing.

They break to remove their school robes, and once they resumed her hands felt up Harry's front, dragging her nails underneath his shirt and feeling the heat radiating off of Harry's body. He placed both hands underneath her thighs, and Daphne jumped onto him, wrapping her legs around him.

Pushing her against the bookshelf, she yelped, as the shelving hit her head. "Sorry." Harry smiled in apology. "Shut up." She replied before attacking his mouth once again. She placed both hands behind his head and her fingers made its way to his messy hair, pulling on it as Harry kissed down her jaw and towards her neck. Lightly sucking on her pulse before licking at the spot that left a red spot after continued assault. It was slightly painful with Daphne pulling on his hair, but with this leverage he started grinding into her, and they both moaned each other's name. Harry's name came out throaty and Daphne's came out raspy, yet they both acknowledged each other's efforts as a steady rhythm formed between them.

"We can't do this here, we agreed no public places." Daphne unlatched from his mouth but one of her hand reached its way up his shirt.

"We're not doing anything except making out." Harry continued to grind into her, she bit her lip at the contact. Looking into his eyes to prove her point, Harry nodded before slowing down his thrusts which only made the pressure against them harder. Moving one of his hands from her butt, he placed it on top of her breast, and even above her bra Harry could still do as much damage as he could without it.

"This is more than making out now." Daphne argued kissing him passionately, her moans went directly into him. "Tonight?" He asked as she continued grinding into him with a pace similar to that of an ocean wave. Looking at him, she nodded. Lifting her up again, and gently placing her down on a table. Their embrace tightened and they stopped kissing in agreement. He placed his head on top of hers and her forehead rested on his chest. They both enjoyed what little time they had together before lunch began, and while they both wanted to stay in this position forever, they knew Madam Pince saw them enter and would undoubtedly search for them to usher them, rather rudely, out her library because she didn't want her books being disturbed.

They untangled, put on their robes, and walked towards the Great Hall, exchanging nods with the librarian on the way out, though they only got a scowl in return. They ate their lunch in peace, sitting together on a bench in the garden they had admired earlier, with the food Dobby had provided them. It had come to be known as their spot, where they would be together for some moment of quiet intimacy.

There were a few sounds of footsteps around them, the students not paying them any mind and the professors who spotted them left them alone. There was nothing overtly indecent about the way Harry had an arm draped over Daphne's shoulders or the way she leaned her head down on Harry's own after they had finished their meal. They both stared at the lone tree in the far side of the garden where someone carved H + D on it rather boldly.

The sun was covered by a cloud and the cold once again made itself known. Harry could see his breath once more, and he could feel Daphne's hand grow colder as she clasped the hand dangling on her shoulder. He rested his head on her, and the sweet smell of cinnamon and rose petals made Harry smile. And ever so slightly he closed his eyes. Blinking a few more times, his eyes trailed down to her golden hair, and then to the tree –their tree, and promptly fell asleep.

Harry stirred to the sound of Alma scratching at the door. He ever so slightly opened his eyes. Blinking a few more times, his eyes trailed down to the white linen sheets draped across his bed, and then to a potted plant –his plant sitting on the windowsill, and promptly woke up.

The apartment that Harry was currently staying at was acceptable enough. It had all the necessary appliances, a decent work space, and it was pet friendly so Alma had friends like Chewy who lived on the second floor. He walked up to the refrigerator and started making himself some breakfast. But before he cracked open the eggs he filled Alma's bowl and the dog happily partook in the meal. Harry smiled before continuing to prepare his own food. "Hey bud?" He asked as he flipped the egg to the other side. "Wanna go to the park today?" He saw the dog's tail wag but it's face was still buried in the bowl.

After he ate his breakfast and freshened up, he grabbed his wand holster and securely placed it within his jacket. And as he was about to put a collar on Alma, he heard a tapping on his window. Surely it was too early in the morning for McGonagall to bother him again? But sure enough it was the same auburn owl the Headmistress sent him everyday, urging him for a reply. "She really took the _I'm going to try everyday if I have to!' _way too seriously huh A?" He asked the dog before it barked back at him, making Harry laugh. He summoned an owl treat from a cabinet before he opened the window to let the owl in and stand at a worn out bird stand. The cold air came rushing in, and if it wasn't for the heating runes he had inscribed in his jacket he would have began shivering. He left the window open, in hopes the sun would peek out from behind the clouds and make this day just a little bit warmer.

He gave the treat to the owl which hooted. Harry absentmindedly began petting the owl for a moment before unwrapping the letter from its leg. Alma sat patiently at the foot of the owl stand, looking curiously at the owl, wagging it's tail as it moved its head to the side. "Play nice girl." Harry said, walking over to his room and sat down, at his desk he quickly wrote out his response without even bothering to read the contents, as he was sure it was the same as the previous ones to finally end this senseless barrage of letters every day.

So as he started penning out "No. Sincerely HJP" on a piece of line paper, a knock on the door made Alma bark. The owl, however, was undeterred as it looks like it fell asleep on the stand. Harry got up to open the door, calming Alma on his way there. He unlocked it, and McGonagall stood behind. Harry suddenly felt a bit guilty about ignoring the Headmistress for quite some time, and his stomach began to grow cold when he saw her again. Alma wagged her tail over to the elderly witch and rubbed her head on McGonagall's leg.

"Why hello to you too little one." She began, petting the dog with a smile on her face before making eye contact with Harry. He let her in and asked if she wanted something to drink. "I have a few bags of tea, though not as good as the ones back home. I have some coffee if you're up for it." Harry gestured for her to sit in the dining area, consisting of a small round table with two chairs facing each other.

"Water is fine." She replied, taking a seat in an admittedly comfy wooden chair when her eyes rested on the owl sleeping. "I see my letters do reach you. It is common courtesy to write back, Lord Potter." Minerva told the young man curtly, her lip was smirked up which reminded Harry of the look she always gave him when he was caught breaking the rules. Harry winced at the use of 'Lord', not hearing his title for a good while.

"I've been busy." Was Harry's reply. McGonagall looked at the sparsely furnished apartment. The only notable feature was the small sofa that she guessed doubled as Alma's bed which stood at the northeast corner of the room, a bunch of chew toys littered around it.

"Yes, I could tell."

Harry handed her a glass of water before taking a seat in front of her. Alma lay at the foot of the table, her head propped against Minerva's foot. Harry stared her down, watching the old professor pet the dog with enthusiasm. While McGonagall was a cat person –literally a cat animagus, she could appreciate Alma's calm temperament. From within her robe she pulled out a dog biscuit and began feeding Alma who was all too happy to accept a delicious treat.

"The answer is no, professor."

"I expected as much, if your replies were any indication. But might you humor this old lady as to why that is?" Minerva asked, bringing her eyes back from Alma's cute little face, she looked at Harry and once again Harry Potter felt like he was a second year that was getting scolded by his Head of House.

Harry didn't back down from the gaze, but he couldn't find a response to her answer. He was Gryffindor dammit, but a knot formed at his throat and his stomach grew cold again. He could hear the wind coming from the window as it made the curtains flap, almost knocking down the bird stand where the owl slept. Minerva flicked her wand and the window was shut closed, and she could hear the buzzing of runes being activated as the temperature in the room warmed a few degrees.

"If I may be so frank, Lord Potter, but you've been gone for four, almost five years now. Not a word, or a postcard, not so much as an owl. I know that it is important to rediscover yourself, as you had said it last time, but you have a responsibility not only to the wizarding community but to yourself as well." She took a sip of her water before continuing. "If this is what you call rediscovering yourself," she gestured at the empty apartment. "I expected much more from you."

"If I knew you were just going to insult me, in my own house no less, then I should never have invited you in." Harry's rebuttal didn't faze McGonagall, as her face was rather stoic. His response was quite loud, and he started rubbing his palm with the nail of his middle finger.

"Lord Potter," She began after Harry had calmed himself down a bit. "With your talents and background, not to mention references from the Flamels and three other Arch-Magi, I don't see why you couldn't get employed anywhere you wanted to. Hogwarts would certainly welcome you."

"Ah so this is where it all boils down to." Harry raised his eyes slowly, his green eyes began to defensively hide his emotions, as was taught to him long ago. "You just want to use me. That's it, 'innit? Raise the credence of Hoggy warty Hogwarts because I teach there? Well I'm tired of being used, professor." Alma moved over to where Harry was and sat down on her haunches, placed her head on Harry's knee as if she could sense his distress.

"I didn't come here to make an enemy out of you." McGonagall said, finishing her glass of water. "I came here to help a dear friend. Contrary to what people say, magical Britain isn't getting better. The war didn't end when Voldemort fell, we still needed to rebuild. With Albus gone, there was no one for the remaining to rally under. While there were some people, such as Shacklebolt and Arthur Weasley who momentarily oversaw the operation, the task was much larger than anyone anticipated. It seems as though you killed Voldemort, but the scar he left behind is healing slower and slower every day to the point where it stopped healing all together."

Harry calmed down as he saw the tired look in McGonagall's eyes. She had dark circles underneath her eyes, and she seemed to have aged considerably since the last time they had met. Some of her hair had grown white, and her usual expression of astute and collected was replaced by exhaustion. Truly the hardest part of a war is picking up the pieces it had left.

"It is true that I want you to teach at Hogwarts because it would raise our credibility. But the income of money, both from mundane and magical sources, has dwindled. Hogwarts has seen a great decrease in admissions which was a major source of income for magical Britain. Second only to export of potions, but that too has dropped. And we need money to finish rebuilding the community into a place where discrimination against those who weren't born into one of twenty-eight families is dealt with. Not just in the moral stand point but legally as well. The ministry is barely scrapping by, and Gringotts won't issue another loan if the previous one isn't paid for. Relief money from neighboring communities could only help us to a certain point. You may be talented in many things, but it serves no purpose if it doesn't help people." After finishing, she chuckled to herself and shook her head.

Minutes ticked by, and they said nothing. Harry looked at the ground, to his dog, knowing deep down inside she was right. He was wasting away in some dingy apartment in the western coast of the States living silently while the place he called home for so many years slowly ate away at itself. Was it shame that made him flee? Or fear that made him hide? Or maybe it was some bloated sense of pride as he left a job he knew was unfinished?

"Well, I most certainly didn't come here to beg. Think about it, that's all I ask. Use my owl to send me a response, and no matter what it is I will honor it. After that I will never send an owl again." She stood up, dusted her robes of some of Alma's hair. Harry walked her over to the door. He outstretched his hand to shake hers, but McGonagall pulled him in a hug. "Though it may have been short, it was nice to see you again Harry. You should take better care of yourself, and at least trim your beard every once in a while." She looked at him with care, as one would see in the eyes of a mother looking at her child. McGonagall walked out the door, pulled out a spoon from within her robe, and disappeared with a crack, leaving Harry on the verge of tears as he closed the door and looked out the window to the bustling city below. Alma walked over to him, in her mouth was her leash. She nudged Harry's leg which got the wizard's attention. Fastening it to Alma, he wiped the water forming in his eyes before thanking the dog with a kiss to her head which the dog eagerly wagged its tail to. Harry told the owl that he'd be right back, but got no response as it had been peacefully asleep having flew from Hogwarts to Harry's apartment.

Alma led him out of the apartment and to the elevators, and the dutiful dog pressed the button for Harry. When it opened, Harry couldn't help but smile a little as Denice from 10A was standing in the elevator. She smiled back at him, a mischievous smirk that Harry knew well.

" 'Morning." He said, stepping into the lift with Alma wagging her tail as he waited for Denice to pet her.

" 'Morning Harr." She slightly bent down to pet the admittedly cute dog, before turning to face Harry.

"Going to the park?" She asked stepping closer to Harry, and he could smell her shampoo, a sweet lavender and her lotion smelled like mint, and if memory served her body wash smelled and felt like cream. Harry nodded to her question, which Denice responded with a lively 'Me too!'

"How's Uni?" Harry asked as he watched the numbers descend.

"Same as always. English Contemporary Literature is kicking my ass, and the professor isn't making things easier for me."

"You said it." Harry agreed. He knew that from the various academic and sport achievements that hang from the walls of her apartment, Denice was a terrific student with a bright future ahead of her. She was always inquisitive and outspoken, but she was also humble about her accomplishments. She had various awards for Speech and Debate, gold medals from both tennis and swimming, and she also had few certificates from essay writing contests. Harry also discovered a martial arts uniform that has recently been dry cleaned, a black belt accompanying it. He never found out kind of martial art she practices, but Harry was sure she could easily take him down in a fight.

"Walk with me there?" Denice held the elevator door open for both Harry and Alma, gesturing for them both to step out before her when they reached the ground floor. Harry nodded to this and Alma wagged her tail. She was always such a social dog, and she was far smarter than the average one. And even if Alma couldn't speak, Harry could easily understand her.

They walked for a good while, and Harry listened while Denice complained about how hard University was. Harry also put in his two-cents when they talked about subjects he knew, such as chemistry (which really was just alchemy with less steps). Their topics veered from academia to more personal topics such as friends and family. Denice was incredibly sociable, Harry discovered, and while she didn't hang out with a lot of friends she liked to talk to people and getting to know them. To her, Harry was a guy from Europe looking to have fun in the States, to what end she didn't know. While Harry answered most of her questions regarding his life back in Europe, he also hinted at his past adventures there.

"And before we knew it, my friend and I were tangled in a nest of vines!" He exclaimed as he threw the tennis ball he'd conjured away from Denice's view, Alma soon gave chase.

"Oh no way! All that and the large dog chasing after you? You had some life back there huh?" Denice sat down on a bench as she watched Harry take the ball from Alma and threw it again. And it was endearing to watch how happy Harry was with just this simple game of fetch he played with his dog. He was eye-catching, truly he was, and he was smoking underneath those clothes, but sometimes she could feel sadness from him. She interacted with many people over the course of her college career, and she had gotten to know many of them on an emotional level, and while she wanted to say the same for Harry she knew that what the boy showed on the surface was only the tip of an admittedly large iceberg.

"Yeah. There was also a time when I had to save this girl from a large snake." He said, missing the fact that this snake was almost one hundred times the size of an adult male jacked up on whey and protein.

"Now I know you're lying. Snakes are creepy." She commented, listening intently to every word of Harry's story.

"It was disgusting. One of my friends was petrified in horror." Harry's smile, the bright and cheery smile that grew in recollection of Hermione dissipated in an instant. Denice caught on to this fact and placed her hand on his. Harry's face immediately changed, and if this disturbed Denice she didn't show it. She was firm believer in letting her emotions flow so filtering words were foreign to her.

"Bad memory?" And yet with Harry, the notion of filter suddenly became the most potent in her vocabulary.

He sighed, and threw the ball but Alma gave no chase. She stayed and eyed Harry with two beautiful green eyes stared down his own. She looked concerned, they both did, and Alma brought a paw to rest on his knee. Denice was always amazed by how well trained Alma was.

"It isn't far from the truth that most of these adventures almost got me killed." Harry laughed it off and gave Alma a treat he kept in his pocket, handing one to Denice. "But worse of all it almost got my friends killed over and over again. I place them in danger to the point where one of their brothers died." Harry breathed out before throwing another ball out, but Denice didn't notice the fact that Alma never gave him back the last one he threw.

Now Denice couldn't make heads-or-tails about Harry's history. While it was amazing how he had managed to overcome most of these adventures, it was safe to take his stories with a grain of salt. She just figured that he was over exaggerating things, but the way his emotions swayed over simple facts left him more mysterious in the eyes of Denice. It wasn't far out to say that most of his stories were nothing less than magical. But she listened, and she supported Harry, because she had to face the fact that even she didn't know what to make of this situation. What was the truth, what was the lie? Is Harry just delusional or was it all real? This is one thing her many trophies and certificates won't help her answer.

Harry leaned back against the bench and threw another ball for Alma to fetch but the dog ignored the ball and instead kept on staring at Harry. Denice raised an eyebrow at Harry's action, didn't he just throw a ball earlier? Alma didn't run after it so, what the hell. 'Weird' Denice thought. Yet she didn't raise her suspicion, everything around Harry was either super normal or heck-a weird. One night when she woke up to get a glass of water when she slept over at Harry's, she could've sworn a large cat –like a panther, was sleeping on Alma's couch. But when she double checked, Alma had her head up, with a feral like grin as if to convey the words _"Having fun, aren't we?" _Denice chalked it up to it being a dream, but she could remember the details so intimately that it made her question some aspects about Harry's life.

Denice was always ahead of Harry, yet now she was stumped. She was lively and was always a treat to spend time with, and she almost always calls him out on his bullshit. If only circumstances were different then Harry would date her, maybe even settle down with her in the future. But he knew that this was simply an infatuation towards a woman he did not entirely know, yet it was blissful to think that sex had more meaning when it was not spoken out loud. Something deceitful to his brain, to let him think that this relationship would go anywhere and leave the term "casual sex".

They both sat on the park bench in peaceful silence, the wind was whistling and the air was cold yet Denice didn't feel the wind, rather she felt warm as if something was blanketing her. She could see her breath, presently the air was cold enough to do this yet somehow her body warmed against all natural law. Harry had Alma's head on his lap, the dog lay on the empty spot on the bench, pressing Harry against Denice and her to the arm rest. It was comfortable, and she couldn't help but lay her head on Harry's shoulder.

He tensed, but it would seem she did not notice. Harry remembered he was holding his breath, and the moment he exhaled as if the weight on his conscience was relieved, if only for a minute. He enjoyed this morning with Denice. He held her warm hand and squeezed it gently as they both enjoyed the warm feeling of being close to someone. Harry knew that McGonagall had the right to get mad at him for leaving a job unfinished, he himself knew that the blame falls solely on him. He did not truly help his friends. They had helped him, again and again without even thinking about themselves. The magical community hailed Harry a hero, but the true heroes are the ones no one speaks about.

He had traveled magical Europe, posters of his face and words of his victory rang through the streets. But where was Hermione and Ron? Neville? Sirius and Remus? Fred? Tonks? Harry Potter ran away from Hogwarts, from Magical Britain, with the false perception that the people he left deserved someone better than an upstart like him.

Yet only now has it occurred to him, when he saw McGonagall, his mother in all but blood, look so tired, with grey hairs sprouting from her head and new lines forming on her face, did he really realize how hard it has been for the aged witch. A cold pit formed in his stomach and it was not due to the weather.

Denice left Harry half an hour later, she needed to get ready for her afternoon classes. She promised to come by later tonight. As for Harry, he stayed until the noonday sun peeked out of the grey clouds. When he stood from the bench and tugged on Alma's leash, Harry had already made up his mind.

When Denice visited apartment 4D later that day, she knocked on the door like she remembered from her previous visits. Yet the one who opened their door was the neighbor, Bobby Cho, who asked Denice what she was doing. When she explained that she was meeting someone here tonight, Bobby replied with,

"That apartment has been vacant for months now."

And before she could even question Bobby's words, a sudden burst of realization renewed itself. What was she thinking? No one has lived here. She even forgot why she'd even been there.

When she was tidying up her closet, she found a red and gold sweater with an imprint of a lion. The embroidery was beautiful, and its scent was lovingly familiar. Maybe it was a gift from a friend a long time ago which had simply slipped her mind. But nonetheless it became her favorite sweater. There was something magical about it, she just can't put her finger on it.


End file.
